He gulps. “That sounds… ominous.”
I smile weakly. “Why don’t we go to the living room?”
“After you.” He steps back and lets me pass.
My fight or flight is pushing hard for me to make a break for the front door, but I don’t. Orion Cartwright is a man worth fighting for, even if he sends me packing once I’m done.
Orion’s dark stare never strays as we settle down onto opposite ends of the couch.
“Well?” he asks when I don’t say anything.
“I’m not really sure how to tell you,” I mutter, more to myself than to him. “It’s just that… well…” Come on, Frankie, rip off the Band-Aid. “You remember how we met?”
“In the kitchen my first morning here.”
“Right.” I nod and force myself to stop fidgeting. “And what did I ask you? What was the very first thing I asked you?”
Orion’s eyebrows slant down in confusion, but he answers my question. “You asked what I was doing here.”
“Right. And then what?”
“Didn’t realize we were playing twenty questions.”
“I know this is weird, but just… I… humor me, please?”
He scratches the back of his neck. “You asked if I followed you, which was weird, because I didn’t know you.”
“Where were you the night before that you could have followed me from?” I ask, trying to get him to connect the dots without me straight up saying it.
He crosses his arms over his chest, his lips pressing into a thin line. Clearly, he’s not going to make this easy on me. But his stubbornness is one of the things I like the most about him.
“Come on, Orion. We both know where you were…”
“How do you know?” he asks, still not admitting it.
“I was there, too,” I whisper. “I was there with you.”
“You were where with me? Just spit it out, Frankie. Please?”
I suck in a deep breath and slowly exhale it before replying. “It’s me—well, she’s me. Or maybe I’m her?”
“Frankie!” His tone is sharp; frustrated but not quite angry.
“I’m Birdie, Orion.”
“Bullshit.” His instant reply makes my heart sink. He doesn’t believe me. Why would he? Birdie is bold and sexy, while I’m… me.
“I’m not lying.” Silently, I beg him to believe me. “I’m your bluebird.”
He exhales sharply at the use of his nickname for me. “What did you just say?”
“I’m your bluebird.”
“Holy shit.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and scrubs his hand over his face. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but—”
A bitter laugh escapes me, eclipsing his words. “Trust me, I know. Birdie is a lot different than Frankie. We’re the same person, but we’re not the same person.”
“Holy shit!” he says again, louder this time. “The last time I came to ATF you called me by my name. I kept thinking maybe I just forgot telling it to you, but I didn’t. I never did.”
“Yeah.” I wrap my arms around my middle. “I definitely slipped up.”
“This is… but your hair,” he says, as if he can’t comprehend the difference.
I lift my long, dark hair from my shoulder and inspect the strands. “I wear red extensions when I’m working. It helps with anonymity. Between the mask, the hair, and the makeup, I really do look like a different person.”
For a minute or two, neither of us speak; the silence is crushing.
Finally, I can’t take it anymore.
“I, um, I’m sure you’re upset, and probably no longer interested in pursuing anything more with me.” Tears burn my eyes, but I’ll be damned if I break down in front of him. “I’m sorry, you know, I’m really sorry for lying to you. I hope you can forgive me. But if not, well, I wouldn’t blame you.”
I want to beg him to understand my side of things, to forgive me, to still want me, but my pride won’t allow it.
Instead, I bolt from the couch, craving the privacy of my bedroom, where I’ll be able to let myself fall apart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ORION
I stare after Frankie for all of two seconds before shooting up from the couch after her.
“Wait up,” I call after her, but she doesn’t even look back.
Luckily, I manage to wedge my foot into the doorway, blocking her from shutting me out.
“Just let me go,” she pleads, but there’s no way that’s happening. Hell, I don’t think I could let her go even if I wanted to.
“Don’t run from me, Frankie.” I get it, she thinks I’m mad. I’m not though. This is a literal have your cake and eat it, too, situation.
“Orion.” My name falls from her lips on an anguished cry. She thinks this is the end of us. But she’s wrong; it’s only the beginning.
“Talk to me, baby, please?”
“Are you mad?” She’s still pressing her body into the door, not shutting me out, but not letting me in either.
“No,” I answer honestly, hoping like hell she believes me. “Surprised, not mad. C’mon, Frankie, talk to me. Let me in.”